


Parenting, of sorts

by gwendee



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Exploration of the Asanos post-canon, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, High School, Humor, Karma is part of the Virtuosos, Light Angst, Post-Canon, The OCs are just the housekeepers that the Asano's live with, They're all friends, but like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 15:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18369272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendee/pseuds/gwendee
Summary: Gakuhou tries to parent, and Gakushuu gets increasingly weirded out by his attempts.





	Parenting, of sorts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I wrote this instead of sleeping. This is a short exploration of the Gakushuu/Gakuhou father-son dynamic that we all know and love, and it was meant to be pure crack and fluff but you KNOW I just can't resist adding angst in things. I tried, I did, and I'm sorry. It's super light angst this time I promise, no one cries.  
> Oh well, have fun! See you on the other side if you don't hate this.

**Parenting, of sorts**

Gakushuu doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. He’s a good citizen, really, he picks up litter on the streets and helps old ladies cross the streets and is polite to secret agent government officials moonlighting as middle-school teachers. He does his best to hide his disdain for the lesser majority of humanity, which as far as Gakushuu is concerned, is the pinnacle of his self-discipline. 

“What, the fuck,” says Gakushuu slowly, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Perched on the armrest of the couch in their shared living space, his father doesn’t pause in his ministrations, and continues to methodically pat Gakushuu’s head like one would with a puppy. “Hm?” Gakuhou says.

“What are you doing?” Gakushuu says. He tilts his head up to glare at his father just in time for a palm to smack him on the forehead. 

“Showing you love and affection,” Gakuhou says back easily, parting Gakushuu’s bangs and ruffling his hair. “Do you not like that?”

Gakushuu blinks once, twice. He really,  _ really _ , doesn’t know what he did. “Yes,” he says back, quietly. 

Gakuhou pauses, hand an inch from the top of Gakushuu’s head, and looks almost hurt. He fishes his phone from his pocket and taps at the screen a few times, then turns back to Gakushuu and says, rather solemnly, “I love you.”

“What the actual fuck!” Gakushuu explodes, and immediately lunges for the device in his father’s hand. “Give me that! What the fuck are you reading?!”

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on whether or not you are the younger or older Asano, Gakushuu at age 17 and a half reaches a full 6 centimeters shorter than Gakuhou at 183, and Gakuhou barely escapes his son trying to grapple him like a Bo-taoshi pole.

“I think you did great on your last mathematics test!” Gakuhou yells, and dodges the pillow Gakushuu throws his way. 

“Fuck off!” Gakushuu shrieks. 

And if Gakushuu had it his way he would never speak about this incident again, or think about it, or allude to it. He would forget it ever happened and settle back into the semi-comfortable existence he had with his father, and ignore each other. But god had decided that Gakushuu hadn’t gotten enough of the bad karma from whatever he did to deserve this, because the principal’s fucking weirdness has bled into Gakushuu’s school life, despite Gakuhou’s initial adamant stance on keeping their private and public life separate (not that it worked out well anyways). 

Gakushuu wants to file for harassment; he says as much to Ren, after the principal walked past them with a thermos in one hand and a folder tucked under his arm to leave his other hand free to pat Gakushuu once on the head, whistling.

Every day, Gakushuu thinks, is a test. 

“I honestly don’t think that counts as harassment,” Ren says, but he sounds skeptical. 

“No, I think Asano is right,” Akabane says, still pressed against his locker with a fist clenched over his heart from where he collapsed against it in shock. Gakushuu shares his sentiment.

“He did  _ this _ ,” Araki says, eyes wide, hand outstretched and faux-petting an invisible mini-Gakushuu in front of him. 

“I think we are all overreacting,” Ren tries.

“No we’re not,” Akabane insists. He hauls Gakushuu into an empty classroom and the Virtuosos follow, and Seo shuts the door behind them. Gakushuu really doesn’t know when he became an unofficial part of the Big Five, or the Big Six, as so dubbed by 2-A. “This is just stage one,” Akabane says, “you have to be prepared, Asano.”

Gakushuu narrows his eyes. “...For what?”

“He’s going to,” Akabane says in a whisper, and beckons them closer. Gakushuu doesn’t know why he humors the boy, but he leans in closer anyways. 

Then Akabane shouts, “brainwash you!” And Gakushuu lets out an undignified squawk when he gets tackled to the ground. Akabane’s still giggling like a madman when Gakushuu pushes him off.

“You should have seen your face,” Koyama snickers.

“All of you suck!” Gakushuu glares, then harder when the five don’t stop laughing. He hates his friends, he really does. He storms out to the courtyard, where he’s greeted by the sight of his father in cordial conversation with Hachiho-sensei, who unfortunately notices him. 

“Hello,” Hachiho-sensei says, the same time Gakuhou says, “would you like to go home together today?” 

Gakushuu gapes. “What?”

“We can take the car,” his father says peacefully, and from over his shoulder Hachiho-sensei shoots Gakushuu a bewildered look, because the very professional relationship between father and son isn’t exactly unknown to the staff and Gakushuu can count on one hand the number of times his father willingly and openly acknowledges anything vaguely regarding their familial ties, such as the fact that they live in the same house. “So you don’t have to walk.”

“...Sure?” Gakushuu says, and his father looks… pleased. Which is another problem in itself, Gakushuu has gotten adept at reading his father’s little nuances and figuring out the enigma that is one Gakuhou Asano, and he doesn’t know what to think of this; Gakuhou being… happy, is the closest word Gakushuu has, whenever he pats him on the head or tries to show him casual affection, like they’re actually doing an enjoyable activity instead of sitting on the couch together and watching the evening news. 

Which, speaking of, is a new routine apparently, starting around the same time as the initial pat on the head which Gakushuu dubs as The Index Case, in which he had been too shocked to resist as his father manhandled him onto the couch and pinned him with a cushion and a bowl of cut fruits. 

Gakushuu doesn’t have further thoughts on that. Zero, zlich, nada.

Gakuhou hums and walks away, and Gakushuu gives the boys behind him a panicked look. Ren looks like he’s counting off minor deities in his head, Koyama and Seo give him twin thumbs-up, Akabane slowly mouths “brainwashing” and makes a throat cutting motion, and Araki gleefully snaps a picture of Gakushuu’s face.

The car ride home is no less awkward, and his father flips through his phone for a good five minutes with the screen faced away and then says, “let’s watch a movie together.”

“What?” Gakushuu says.

“Is that your new favourite word?” Gakuhou sounds amused, “a movie.”

Gakushuu opens his mouth. Shuts it. Opens it again, “...why?”

“You don’t want to watch a movie with me?” Gakuhou says. 

Gakushuu stares at the phone. What the fuck is his father doing on there? Reading forum articles on ways to baffle and torment your teenage son? “No,” he says, softly.

“Hm,” Gakuhou says, “after our meal, then. Do you have any preference for dinner?”

“No,” Gakushuu says, softer.

The car pulls into the driveway and Gakuhou gives Gakushuu yet another affectionate pat on the head, bringing today’s count to 4, and leaves. Their chauffeur turns around from the driver’s seat and stares at Gakushuu with wide eyes.

Gakushuu shrugs helplessly. “Fuck if I know,” he says, “thanks, Jin. See you around.”

He’s assaulted by his housekeeper Tamiko as he steps over the threshold, and she ends up tying him to the chopping board as she grills fish and Gakushuu on his father’s recent eccentric behaviour.

“I don’t know,” Gakushuu admits miserably, “I usually know what he’s up to. He’s weirding me out.”

“Maybe,” Tamiko hums thoughtfully, “he’s trying to be a good parent.”

Gakushuu slices the tomatoes cleanly. It’s one of the first hypotheses he came up with, irrational and reasonable, like whatever that happened with 3-E two years ago and the literal end of the world, and the subsequent revamping of Kunugigaoka’s totalitarian school system, although prejudices still recur. Which somehow lead to a revision of the household dynamic that Gakushuu had grown up under, two years after the initial meltdown.

“Maybe,” Gakushuu says. 

Dinner precedes the movie, neither of which Gakushuu really pays attention to, hyper-aware of his father’s presence. They’ve always had dinner together as a strange form of peace-making ritual with the dining table as neutral territory, although no conversation ever happens there. Gakuhou doesn’t break that unspoken rule, which is great, because Gakushuu is up to here with the weirdness.

And Gakushuu really wishes this is the end of it, he really does, watching a 2 hour long foreign film about breaking the school system with your principal should have been as weird as it gets but God, Gakuhou, or whoever who bestowed upon Gakushuu the burden of being the only sane member of their dysfunctional two-person family, has decided to push the limits.  _ His  _ limits. 

It’s been 3 months, and Gakuhou manages to get weirder and weirder every day.

“I can’t do this,” Gakushuu says, eyes snapping up from his laptop and glaring at the offending hand flattening his fringe to his forehead and the man it was attached to.

Gakuhou, unperturbed, says, “your homework?” 

Gakushuu wishes he replied perhaps a second quicker, to cut his father off, but he falters with rage at the sheer implication that he, Gakushuu Asano, could not do something as mundane as  _ homework _ ; said ability in which Gakuhou himself had spent years and years training that ability into him, fucking homework, and Gakushuu is so offended for the two seconds that he’s rendered speechless. 

But then Gakuhou says, “that’s alright,” and the string of furious thoughts running Gakushuh’s brain stutter to a halt.

“It’s alright if you don’t succeed all the time,” Gakushuu says, either unaware or uncaring of his teenage son’s imminent death as he continues absently patting the head of a corpse, “as long as you tried your best, and I’m proud of you for that.”

“I can’t do this,” Gakushuu repeats desperately. He clambers off the couch and abandons his work in his haste, grabbing his phone and running out the door. This house isn’t safe anymore, not even his own bedroom, not since last week when Gakuhou knocked on the door and presented him with, of all things,  _ a nightlight _ . The ridiculous glowing moon was still plugged into his wall, never mind that Gakushuu hasn’t slept with a nightlight in a whole decade. 

He goes to Ren’s, who opens the door and laughs in Gakushuu’s face for five minutes, and then makes him tea and watches him hyperventilate in his kitchen.

“He’s insane,” Gakushuu stresses, “this is harassment, Ren. This is stalker behaviour.”

“He’s your  _ father _ ,” Ren says, having the fortunate gift of having a normal fucking family and thus blind to Gakushuu’s plight, “sure, it’s kind of weird, but maybe he’s just trying to show that he cares.”

And yeah, of course Gakushuu knows that. There’s nothing else that can justify the emotional “I appreciate you” that Gakuhou had thrown over last night’s dinner and Gakushuu had tripped over two chairs and bolted. Gakuhou  _ cares _ , that much has been shown in excruciating detail over the course of the past 3 months. But there was an ulterior motive, there always was.

“I think he’s going to kill me in my sleep,” Gakushuu says.

“You’re being dramatic,” Ren rolls his eyes like he's not the dramatic one out of the both of them. “He wants to bond with you.”

“That’s…” Gakushuu has many words for it. Horrifying, terrible, ridiculous, idiotic, lucidious, mortifying; well the point was that Gakushuu knew many words and could spend hours listing down synonyms for what-the-fuck-is-happening.

“Bleh,” Gakushuu expresses eloquently, and Ren rolls his eyes again.

It’s clear that his best friend has little to no experience with estranged parents, so Gakushuu reluctantly seeks out Akabane for advice one Saturday afternoon. He brings cookies that Gakuhou made him bake with him early morning, that Akabane makes a face at when offered. 

“Why don’t you eat them yourself?” Akabane says, “fruits of your labour and all that. You two made it together, after all.”

“I don’t eat sweets,” Gakushuu says.

Akabane widens his eyes. “Eh-ver?”

“Ever,” Gakushuu nods firmly. 

“Did you even have a childhood?” Akabane says, “did you go to the park, play on the slides, kick around a soda can and play the recorder really badly?”

“I did play the recorder among other instruments,” Gakushuu says, but he has nothing else to comment on. He doesn't mention that he was a prodigy at the recorder, because the dawning horror on Akabane's face tells Gakushuu that's not quite the point of the conversation.

“You’re sad,” Akabane declares, “sad, Asano. I may not have parents but at least I got to be a kid.”

“Do you have any advice for me at all?” Gakushuu interrupts, “or are you just here to insult my crappy homelife?”

“You came to me,” Akabane says, but his voice is free of mockery, and he lays a hand on Gakushuu’s forearm and squeezes lightly. “And honestly? I’m at a loss. I’ve yet to experience a parent attempting to reconcile with me, and I know pretty much 2 things about the principal, which are that he’s a terrifying businessman and a shitty dad.”

“That pretty much sums him up,” Gakushuu says glumly.

Akabane says, “We’re taking you to the park, by the way.”

“We?” Gakushuu echoes questioningly, and the following Monday sees Koyoma sobbing passionately into Gakushuu’s blazer about his childhood or lack thereof, and the rest of his idiot friends pouring over the city map.

“This one has the best swings,” Seo says, pointing to somewhere Gakushuu can’t make out from where he’s anchored to the ground on the other end of the room by Koyama and Akabane.

“Too far,” Araki says, “that one. It has monkey bars.”

“But it doesn’t have a see-saw,” Seo argues, “no playground’s a playground without a see-saw.”

Ren furrows his brow. “The one next to Square Mall? It has a see-saw, monkey bars, and a roundabout.”

“It’d be overrun with kids,” Seo complains.

“What’s going on?!” Gakushuu wails, and because the universe hates him, Gakuhou picks the least appropriate time to walk into the student council room and stare at the spread on the table. 

“Hi big boss,” Seo says, gaze flicking over to Gakuhou briefly. Araki mumbles a hi without looking up, and Ren waves and goes back to scrolling his phone. Koyama detaches from Gakushuu enough to nod and then goes back to wrinkling his blazer.

“What is happening here?” Gakuhou says, when it’s clear that staring at his son would provide him no more answers than a helpless look. Akabane squishes Gakushuu’s cheeks and turns to look at Gakuhou with an almost predatory grin, and Gakushuu doesn’t know when this has become his life.

“Shuu here says he has never been to a park before,” Akabane says with an exaggerated pout, and Koyama nods solemnly, “so we are finding a super cool playgrounds to take him to so we can play.”

“I’ve been to parks,” Gakushuu says tiredly, “don’t call me Shuu.”

“Oh,” Gakuhou says, expression strange and uncharacteristically void of either the mild smile or the taunting smirk he often wears, “did you want to go to a park?”

Ren, Araki and Seo pause in their debate, and in as much unscripted synchronization as possible, slowly turn to face Gakuhou. 

“No,” Gakushuu says. 

“I never did bring you to a park,” Gakuhou says, and he sounds… guilty, regretful, sad. Negative synonyms, antonyms of happy. Gakuhou looks the most devastated that Gakushuu has ever seen him, and on the flipside Akabane looks absolutely gleeful. 

“I don’t want to go to a park,” Gakushuu repeats hysterically, but his father’s already in stage 3 of 5 of whatever conflict he’s going through and it’s showing on his face in the form of distress almost as much as when he had smacked Gakushuu and sent him flying across the classroom 2 years prior, and Akabane is positively vibrating. No, wait, that was Koyama. Wait, it’s both of them.

“No,” Gakushuu says, “no, no, nononono-”

“Dragon park,” Ren says with the authority of a thousand lesser men or one Gakuhou.

“The one with the playground shaped like a dragon, or the one with the pond shaped like a dragon?” Araki asks.

“It’s the same goddamn park,” Seo says. 

“Have fun,” Gakuhou says with the strangest fucking expression on his face and Gakushuu feels his imminent death and the onslaught of a very uncomfortable home conversation, and Gakushuu gets manhandled out the room and out of the school and onto the bus. 

“Did you see his. Fucking. Face,” Akabane says, bouncing, “that was awful, oh my god.” 

“This is his redemption arc,” Ren says, way too excited in Gakushuu’s opinion. “This is amazing.”

“No,” Gakushuu repeats, “no, no, no.”

Many no-s later, after non-consensual kidnapping and public transport trips, being hauled off the bus and dragged down a street, Gakushuu finds himself standing beneath what seems to be a giant dragon head, in awe at the sheer majesty of a enormous plastic head that someone had to put in the effort to design. 

And then Akabane pushes him face-first into the sand pit.

“Hey Jin,” Gakushuu says, exhausted, and behind him Ren and Koyama hop into Ren’s own ride with a wave goodbye, “do you have towels to lay on the seats? I’m covered in sand.”

“I’ll just clean later,” Jin says with a soft smile, “it’s what your father pays me for.” 

Gakushuu runs his hand over his face, and slides into the passenger seat. Akabane, Araki and Seo clamber into the back. 

“Akabane, there should be a first-aid kit under your seat,” Gakushuu says, “get me a roll of tape, will you?” There’s a bit of fumbling and cursing and then Araki is handing Gakushuu a bandage, and Gakushuu is trying his best to wrap his hand. 

“Sorry,” Akabane says, and to his credit sounds apologetic.

“Just a sprain,” Gakushuu says, “but fuck you.”

Jin drives around to drop the three idiots off and Gakushuu makes a face at the mess of sand and soil and grass on the leather. “Never mind about that,” Jin says, “did you have fun?”

“I,” Gakushuu says, and he’s a little surprised when he admits, “I did, actually. We were… wow, we were so childish, we played some weird childhood games they insisted I try, like freeze tag and hide-and-seek and something called traffic light? It was weird. Swings are weird, Akabane pushed me too high and I fell off, hence the wrist, but I’m fine though. Did you see the playground when you drove by? It was a huge dragon, Jin, that was pretty cool, even though it’s so unnecessary. There were a couple of kids there and we played with them for a while, we did something about flipping erasers? That game is so  _ stupid _ , there was literally no point to it. And,” Gakushuu pauses, watches Jin watch him with a little smile, and then turns red and clicks his mouth shut.

“Go on,” Jin says, and Gakushuu puffs his cheeks out.

“I remember when you were a kid,” Jin laughs a little, “five years old, you came up to my knees. You grew so fast then. Tamiko, Husare and I took you out, sometimes, and you loved watching ducks out by the dragonfly pond.”

“I don’t remember that,” Gakushuu says.

“We used to have a little swing installed,” Jin says, “the tree next to the patio. You were on it constantly, tried to go as high as you can. Why did we take it down, oh, it was when your mother died.”

Gakushuu blinks. “What was she like?”

“She was,” Jin thinks, “a wonderful woman. She loved you dearly. I’m not surprised your father rarely talks about her, he was heartbroken when she passed. You look so much like her.”

“People say I look a lot like him,” Gakushuu absently touches his cheek.

“You do,” Jin agrees, “but you have so much of your mother in you.” He pulls into the driveway and waves away Gakushuu’s offers to help with a pointed glance at his wrist, and the other housekeeper Husare nags at him and dresses the wound with a steady hand. 

“Just because you’ve never broken your wrist doesn’t mean you should try,” she says, planting an obnoxious kiss on his forehead, “you’re having a lot of first times recently but this should not be one of them.”

“What do you mean?” Gakushuu asks.

“Stop fishing, and I’m not blind,” she says, “you and your father. It’s nice to see you two spend time together again, after,” she says, then stops short.

“I know who Ikeda is,” Gakushuu says, voice sounding hollow to himself.

“Oh honey,” Husare says.

“It’s fine,” Gakushuu says, and thanks her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and trudges up back to his bedroom. 

Which brings out the next thought looming over his head, his father’s apparent change of heart and sudden desire to catch up on years of normal-parenting he missed out on, like it’s a switch that can be flipped and Gakushuu can become a normal kid again. Like how being a mean, despicable man to instill some warped form of strength into his own son was going to bring his beloved student back, like everything was just that easy if you tried hard enough to push things to submission.

Gakushuu washes the grass out of his hair and head back down for yet another quiet dinner, Tamiko giving Gakushuu a sad look after no doubt convening with both Husare and Jin, and Gakuhou overly engrossed in his phone. 

And maybe it’s Gakushuu’s exhaustion, the swings and the exhilarating feeling of going way too high and the brief second of shock before crashing into the ground, Akabane’s jab about his abnormal childhood and the lack of a memory of a swing in his backyard or the ducks in the dragonfly pond. Or maybe it’s Gakushuu’s desperate desire for something,  _ something _ , to go back to normal, sick of the attempts of covering an already-shattered phone screen with a screen protector like it was going to make a difference. But when Gakuhou says, “how was the park?” and breaks their vow of silence over the dinner table, Gakushuu snaps.

“Why are you doing this?” Gakushuu screams, chair clattering to the floor as he abruptly gets to his feet, ignoring Tamiko’s frantic hand waving and glaring at Gakuhou’s shocked face, “why are you being so, ugh!”

“Asano-”

“You can’t keep doing this,” Gakushuu says hysterically, “I hate it, okay? You can’t keep dancing around and… showing me affection, or whatever, making me… do things with you that we’ve never done before, some kind of father-son bonding activity you found off the internet that  _ normal _ people do; I mean, we’re not normal, and you need to stop trying to pretend like we are.”

Gakuhou, well, Gakuhou’s face crumples. “You don’t,” he gulps, “want to try? Being a normal family.”

“I,” Gakushuu says, “don’t. It’s weird, it’s uncomfortable, It’s,” he stares at his father’s face, which has now schooled into an impassive expression that’s impossible to read, and behind him Hasure and Tamiko are shaking their heads. “It’s not a reverse switch. We can’t suddenly work out just because you feel guilty or something. I can’t… It just doesn’t work that way. You can’t collect parenting experience points and erase years of you being a shit dad, and you can’t bring someone back to life by changing your education policies.”

Gakuhou inhales sharply. “What? Asano, how-”

Distress on his father’s face is something Gakushuu has only seen several times in his life. It was an exhilarating drive the first time around, like swinging said swing too high, and this time it tastes of something bitter. 

“It’s not my face in that picture frame on your desk,” Gakushuu says, shrugging, “and you sulk twice a year. The day Mom died, and the day he did. It’s not really hard to figure out.”

Gakushuu leaves before anyone stops him, sprints the several streets and walks to Ren’s estate, then changes his mind and just wanders. His phone rings.

“Hi Ren,” Gakushuu says.

“How’s your walk?” Ren asks dryly. “Your dad called. He thought you might have come over to mine, but you can make it here in less than 5 minutes on a good day.”

Gakushuu hums. “I’m fine. He didn’t even try to call me.”

“Really,” Ren says, “no, you’re not. And would you have picked up if he did?”

Gakushuu doesn’t answer.

“Look,” Ren sighs, “okay, forgive me if I sound too mean especially with whatever emotional turmoil you have in your head, but you’re kind of being an idiot right now. Yeah, your dad sucks, and maybe he’s going about the absolute wrong way approaching you. But he just wants to show he cares, and he wants a shot at being a normal family with you. Don’t you want that?”

Gakushuu lets out a deep breath. “Did he tell you that?”

“No, but I am third place in the cohort and you know that, public rankings or no,” Ren says, “stop avoiding the question.”

“I do,” Gakushuu admits.

“Then what’s the problem?” Ren says, “stop pushing him away. He’s trying, but you’re not. I get that it’s weird to you and it’s creeping you out but there’s bound to be awkwardness here and there.”

“It’s not that simple,” Gakushuu says.

“No, I think you’re missing the point and it actually is that simple,” Ren says, “there’s no undo button, and he’s trying to make up for years of being a terrible dad. It’s uncomfortable and you can tell him that, and yeah I get that being showered with affection when 17 years of your father-son bonding is threatening to murder each other over your grades is actually goddamn weird but there’s no easing into this.” 

“The reason he became crazy was because there was some kid he taught that he loved a lot, and he used to be a really great teacher and he was all about morals and values and shit, but then the kid offed himself and then he started prioritizing strength over being a good person.” Gakushuu blurts everything out in one breath and purses his lips.

“That’s,” Ren says, and there’s a silence for a beat or two before he says again, quieter this time, “you know you’re not a replacement, right?”

“Yeah,” Gakushuu scuffs his feet against the pavement.

“You should go home,” Ren tells him, “your dad is worried. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

Gakushuu goes home. Jin is sitting on the porch, and he waves when Gakushuu comes into view. “You’re too old to be running off like that,” he says good-naturedly, worry lacing his tone. Hasure flicks him on the forehead and Tamiko motions to Gakuhou’s study, and Gakushuu raps his knuckles three times on the door before he hears a soft “come in”. 

“Hey,” Gakushuu says, stepping inside and resisting the urge to just crawl back to his room and under the covers to scream. The study looks exactly the same that it always has been, closed-off and cold and mahogany. 

“I’m sorry,” Gakuhou starts, wincing, “I didn’t, realize, how uncomfortable it was for you. I-”

“No, I,” Gakushuu interrupts, “do want to be. Good, with you. And you were trying, and I pushed you away.”

Gakuhou is silent for a while, then he says, “I’ve been a terrible dad.”

“I mean, yeah,” Gakushuu shrugs, “but, it’s okay. I guess. You trying to, atone for your sins or whatever. Fucking weird but, you know. Not, bad. I'll. Try, harder this time.”

Gakuhou inclines his head. 

“But I do have a question,” Gakushuu crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, “what the fuck have you been doing on your phone? You’ve been reading something that I’m pretty sure is the root to all of this and I want to know what it is. Why start Index Case now? Your whole ‘I’ve been a terrible person’ epiphany happened 2 years ago, this is some delayed reaction for you. Are you getting slow? Is it time for your retirement?”

Gakuhou actually makes a face, and it’s really a testament to how strangely effective their five month “bonding” period actually was when Gakushuu isn’t taken aback at all. Showing normal human emotions around each other had to be trained into acceptance for both of them, and they’re okay with it now.

“It’s none of your business,” Gakuhou says. 

“First rule of amazing family dynamics is good communication,” Gakushuu baits.

Gakuhou lets out a long-suffering sigh, looks to the heavens as if to ask why he had been shackled with such an overbearing annoyance for a son despite that it’s clear that he was the main influence in Gakushuu’s life. “It’s just an article on how to be a good parent,” Gakuhou begrudgingly admits, cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

Gakushuu finally understands Akabane just a tiny bit more. “Is it?” he says with mirth, as Gakuhou mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like “the article never said anything about dealing with wanting to murder your child”, and Gakushuu pulls out his phone. 

“Is it the wikihow one?” Gakushuu says, and Gakuhou lets out another groan. 

“Step one,” Gakushuu reads, “give your child love and affection-”

“I’m disowning you,” Gakuhou says. Gakushuu, now confident in the fact that he is not, just flips his father the bird.

And things go back to normal, or rather a semblance of normal, or whatever their new normal is. Awkward pats on the head and strangely timed compliments. Gakushuu still thinks it's fucking weird, okay Ren, it doesn't matter if they're on the same page now.

“I’ll come to your high school graduation,” Gakuhou says sincerely, and Gakushuu gapes at the sheer ridiculous-ness of both the sentence and the thought process behind it. 

“You’re my fucking principal,” Gakushuu says, “of course you’re coming to my goddamn- can you stop reading that stupid article?! You were there for my milestones, christ, you live in the same goddamn house as I do and you are literally the first person that hears about anything vaguely academic I achieve-”

“I wasn’t there for your first kiss,” Gakuhou says peacefully, “and the article clearly works, so of course I will continue to refer to it.”

“I haven’t even HAD- oh my god, you’re impossible. Jin, how do you delete a wikihow article?”

“I’ve never tried,” Jin says, amused, and Gakushuu knows the absolute ammunition that Tamiko and Husare are going to have over him when he gets home, “but if anyone can do it, you can.” The car pulls up at the school gates, and Gakushuu’s mood sours ever more the very moment he sees Akabane and Ren engrossed in what seems to be a rather intense rock-paper-scissors game, and Araki taking photographs of the event.

“I still hate you,” Gakushuu says to his father.

“I don’t,” Gakuhou says, and gives Gakushuu two pats on the head. 

“Eat my shoe, loser,” Akabane crows, as Ren dramatically collapses in the dust. Koyama showers Akabane in flower petals from all the cherry blossoms around the school entrance, and Araki snap a close-up of Ren’s devastation. 

“What the fuck is going on now?” Gakushuu asks exasperatedly, and Seo starts off into a monologue about the true test of ingenuity and something about a novel series, and they’re idiots, all of them. He drags Ren off the ground and shoves the group past the school gates, and then Koyama, Araki and Seo get into another debate about said novel series and Ren pulls at his hair about the mechanics of luck-based games.

“So are you and your dad cool now?” Akabane says, sliding up next to Gakushuu.

“I guess,” Gakushuu shrugs, “it’s a work in progress. You up for any familial reconciliation yourself?”

“No thanks, sounds exhausting,” Akabane says. “By the way, I brought some gummy bears for you to try. They’re sugar free, so it should be a good starter candy before we move you on to the actual sweets.”

“You’re so annoying,” Gakushuu gripes with no real heat. 

There’s another batch of cookies in a lunchbox in his bag that he plans to distribute later, and he may have one heck of a messed up childhood but a father who actually really sucks at baking but insists on doing it anyways, an analogy for attempting to be a good parent, and a bunch of friends intent on making him get to be a kid again about 10 years too late, so it’s really annoying.

“You love us,” Akabane says, beaming.

Maybe. But Gakushuu would never admit that out loud. He still doesn't know what he did to deserve this, but it's not  _that_ bad, he supposes, all things considered. Even if everything is still really weird. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! How is everyone? What are your thoughts? Shoot me down.


End file.
